
CIassES_2i.044i 
RnoIr .X ^ 4- 

GpiiglitN".^ 



COPnUGHT DEPOSir. 






^*****¥if)jfaf)ir»jf)ji^^ ■ 



/ 



y ^y ^ / -/5 



?^AR 



O^^i 




18J3 



BY 

S.N.llwar. 






_^ .UBia»HEBS 






1699. 



RACING 



RHYMES 



Turf Topics, the Thoroughbred, 
etc., etc., etc. 



S. N. ILWAR 




New Yokk 

GOODWIN BROTHERS 

1440 Broadway 

189!> 






2S592 



COPYRIGHT, 

GOODWIN BROS. 



TWOeOP'lESREc-IVcD. 



{ 




Mf.3231899 



Y\^^\o 



n^ Oi 



T 



DEDICATION. 



O ALL ye faithful "Reg-ulars," who journey to the 

tracic 
Day after day, through sun and storm, your favorites 

to back; 



To all ye pleasure loving- souls, who "caj-e not for the game 
So much as for the tJirilling sport"— but play it just the 
same; 

To all ye worthy owners, who run races "on the square"— 
Abou't the other kind of course I really do not care; 

To all ye great officials, stewards, judges— powers im- 
mense — 
Also ye mighty starters and ye "rail birds" on the fence; 

To all ye jolly bookmakers, who work so hard to get 
A very small percentage from the public — who will bet; 

To all ye journalistic scribes, who for the papers write 
Those full reports in which the sporting public delight; 

To all ye anxious trainers, who use so much care and 

thought 
That your charges to fhe post in prime condition may be 

brought; 

To all ye gallant pigskin knights, who give a straightout 

ride 
And always try to win, whatever horse ye may bestride; 

To all ye careful hostlers, rubbers-down and stable boj-s, 
And everybody else that this grand enterprise employs; 

To all ye students who delve deep in records, "form" and 

"dopes," 
To whom a Good-win is a thing on wQiich ye pin your 

hopes; 

To all ye winsome fair ones, who delight to view the races, 
And brighten up the grand stand with your toilets and 
your faces; 

t 

In short — to everey one who loves the "sport of kings" so 

great. 
And loves the noble thoroughbred, this book I dedicate 



CONTENTS, 



Page. 
Jimmy and Snapper and Fitz, - - - - 11 



Derby Day, -------- 19 

Suburban Day, ------- 27 

Both Ways, ------ -33 

Fifty to One, ------- 43 

Three Great Babies, - - - - - 47 

Parole, -------.- 55 

The Gentleman Tout, ----- 61 

The Dark Skinned Tout, - - - - - 69 

The Tough Tout, ------- 75 

Two Kinds, -.------ 81 

The Bookymonster, - - - - - - - 87 

Tbe True Bookmaker, ------ 91 

The Start, ..--.... 97 

The Finish, ----.- 103 



. CONTENTS— Continued. 

♦ 

How Clara Didn't Bet, - - - - - - 109 

Look oj^ This Picture and Then on This, - - 115 

Left at the Post, ------- 119 

PUER Stabuli, . - - - - - 127 

All Kinds of Luck, - - - - - - 139 

The Goodthing, ------- 145 

Fell in the Stretch, ------ 149 

The Blind Veteran, . - - - 155 

A Fair Enthusiast, ----- 161 

The Piker's Hymn, - - - - - - - 165 

Peter Pfeiffenschneider's Patriotic " Pet," - - 169 

Mickey McManus and His "Farrum Sthudy." - 175 

The Track in Winter, - - - - 181 




JIMMY AND SNAPPER AND FITZ. 







JIMMY AND SNAPPER AND FITZ 
''And there were Giants in those davs." 



OU may tell of your heroes who 
meet in the ring, 
Your Sullivans, Corbetts and all, 
But the Knight of the Pigskin's 
"the baby for me," 
And he on my muse "has first call." 
Yes, if he's a "Cracker- Jack" you may be 

sure 
He can show as much courage and nerve 
As any bold warrior who in the brunt 
Of the battle his country might serve. 
His eye must be keen and his wit must be 

sharp, 
For he has but a moment to choose 
'Twixt one course or the other, full many a 

time. 
Which a fortune may win or may lose. 
And of all the brave boys who to saddle have 
jumped 



1 2 Racing Rhymes. 



In those contests of speed, pluck and wits, 
There are none more deserving of undying 

fame 
Than ''JixiWiiy' and ''Snapper" and "Fitz." 



Sturdy Jimmy McLaughlin, your name ever 

stands 
InterUnked with the names of a few 
Of the most famous horses we ever have 

known, 
Who always were mounted by you: 
Miss Woodford and Kingston and Hanover 

too. 
Queen and kings of the turf in their day, 
Again and again have you steered them safe 

home. 
While the best of the others gave way. 
A steady, square ride was the kind you put 

up, 
And good judgment was in it all through; 
If you failed to get first there was rarely a time 
When the blame could be placed upon you. 
So the ''Red with Blue Sash," when you came 

on the track, 



Jimmy, Snapper ajid Fitz. 13 



Was ever a glad sight to see; 

And your name should be known while a race 

track remains 
In our land of the brave and the free. 



Hurrah for "The Snapper!'' that youth debon- 

nair, 
So lissome and graceful and trim, 
Who rode like a lightning streak flashing 

through air; 
There were none who could ''snap" it like 

him. 
W^hen his mount might have won by a few 

open lengths, 
He would make it appear by his art 
That he worked like a Turk just to win by a 

nose. 
And a daisy he was at the start; 
For he'd stand still and watch for a chance 

to rush through. 
And crawl up, and sidle, and back. 
And play every trick that a jockey can try 
Till they gave him the best of the track; 
Then — zip! — he was off, and the others would 

break. 



14 Rachig Rhymes 



And the flag dropped, and he had the lead. 
Yes, the "Garrison finish" still blazons his 

fame ; 
Ah! he was a jockey indeed. 

Dare-devil Fitzpatrick! The name in itself 

Brings up from the depths of the past 

A legion of memories, stirring and strong, 

Like the sound of a war trumpet's blast. 

Those races snatched out of the jaws of de- 
feat 

By riding so dashing and wild, 

That it seemed like the work of a desperate 
fiend, 

Or a man by a demon beguiled; 

Those hair raising squeezes close in by the 
rail, 

Where a shadow could barely get through, 

But where the bold boy saw the ghost of a 
chance 

And seized it with eye keen and true. 

Alone in his style stands the ''Dare-devil" 
jock. 

No other can match him therein; 

He'd take every risk that presented itself, 

With only one thought: 'T must win." 



Junmy , S71 upper and Fiiz. 15 



The days have gone by when this trio so 

great 
Thrilled the hearts of the whole racing world; 
Xew idols are raised and adored for a while, 
Then down from their altars are hurled. 
I would not disparage the merits of those 
Wlio shine as star jockeys to-day; 
There are many among them well worthy of 

fame, 
Whose names on the records will stay. 
Yet for me there are none who can hold such 

a place, 
And around me can throw such a spell, 
•As the three I have named, and thus feebly 

have tried 
Of their glories a little to tell. 
And so, when my memory far from me strays, 
And as through the dim past it flits. 
It returns o'er and o'er to the soul stirring 

days 
Of ''Jimmy" and '"Snapper" and "Fitz." 



DERBY DAY. 




DERBY DAY. 




ONDON'S streets seem very quiet; 
Looks like Sunday ''down on 

'Change;" 
All the clubs have lost their mem^ 
bers ; 
Something's happened — very strange! 
What on earth can be the matter? 
Ha! I just heard some one say 
''Half the city's gone a-racing" — 
Why, of course. It's Derby Day!" 



Out upon the road to Epsom 
Fifty different kinds of rigs; 
Four-in-hands and hucksters' wagons, 
Tilburys and doctors' gigs, 
Donkey carts and blooded turnouts; 
Liveries and toilets gay, 
Rags and tags — all bound for Epsom; 
You might know it's Derby Day. 



20 Racing Rhymes. 

What a dust they all are raising! 
Yet the crowd don't seem to care; 
Jolly jokes and bursts of laughter 
Ring upon the soft spring air. 
Fashion's beauties smile at beggars; 
Folly holds despotic sway; 
Social lines seem sadly shattered 
By the power of Derby Day. 

In that vast procession, wending 
On its way to Epsom Downs, 
Every face seems bright and sunny; 
One may look in vain for frowns. 
Though the road is badly crowded 
And the rich man's drag gives way 
Very often to the poor man, 
None complain — it's Derby Day. 

When the course is reached, how stirring 
Is the scene that meets the eye! 
Shows the games of every nature. 
Tricks and trades both lov/ and high; 
Countless schemes to catch a penny — 
'Try your luck here!" ye who may; 
''Never mind a 'bob' or 'tanner'!" * 
Blow it in — it's Derby Day. 

♦Shilling or sixpence. 



Derby Day. 2 1 



Flower girls vend their fragrant posies: 
*'Lady, buy my roses sweet!" — 
And some haughty, fair patrician, 
For whose decking would be meet 
Rare exotics, priceless orchids. 
Buys a shilling's worth in play; 
Pins them on her filmy laces; 
Quite en regie — Derby Day. 

Swarthy Gipsy fortune tellers 
Seek the future's book to read 
On the palms of stately beauties, 
Who of ''fortunes" have no need. 
Bands of tuneful Wandering Minstrels 
Sing some merry roundelay, 
And ''the hat" ne'er passes vainly; 
'Tis well filled on Derby Day. 

Mountebanks and clowns and jugglers 

Vie in feats of every kind. 

Charity is, too, a feature: 

"Help the cripple!" "Help the blind!" 

Few are they who grudge a penny; 

Pleasure sheds a kindly ray 

O'er the hearts of th(jse who feel the 

Influence of Derbv Dav. 



22 Raci?i^ Rhymes. 



As the vital hour approaches 
When the great event is run, 
Thrilling waves of deep excitement 
Stir the heart of every one. 
Look upon the eager faces, 
Young and fresh, and old and gray, 
All aglow with expectation 
Of the race of Derby Day. 

Betting waxes fast and furious; 
Wagers of all kinds are made, 
From the bonbon stakes of fair ones 
To the fortune that is played 
Ey the bold, adventurous plunger. 
None escape the powerful sway 
Of the speculative fever 
Which prevails on Derby Day. 

Now the doughty equine champions 
Sally forth toward the start. 
Cheers ring out for each contender; 
Jockeys, too, receive their part 
Of the multitude's applauding. 
Which to each one will convey 
Nerve and courage for the struggle 
Now at hand, of Derby Day. 



Derby Day. 23 

Then there comes a curious stillness 
•O'er the erstwhile noisy throng; 
Breathless, all await the moment 
They've looked forward to so long. 
Soon a mighty roar arises, 
Like a tempest dashing spray. 
And wx know the race has started 
Which gives name to Derby Day. 

Oh! those few all fateful moments! 
Myriad hearts are beating fast. 
Well it is that such emotion 
Can for but a brief space last ! 
None could long endure the tension; 
Strongest nerves would soon give way 
Under such o'erwhelming pressure 
As that race of Derby Day. 

Ah! It's over! One's first feeling 
Is a sense of deep relief. 
Though to some comes exultation, 
And to many comes but grief. 
Some are richer; some are poorer; 
One has gained fame that will stay 
With him always — 'tis the owner 
■Of the horse of Derby Day. 



24 Racing Rhymes. 



Plaudits greet the noble winner, 
That great horse whose worthy name 
Will from henceforth stand forever 
On the turf's high roll of fame. 
Even losers swell the greeting 
When the hero comes to weigh, 
And receive the azure guerdon,** 
Trophy proud of Derby Day. 

Tis a great and grand experience 
Such a glorious scene to view; 
And, to me, a recollection 
Which will last my whole life through. 
Wonderful! how those brief moments 
O'er a people's hearts hold sway! 
Ah ! a mighty institution 
Is Old England's Derby Day! 
London, 1879. 

**Blue Ribbon. 



SUBURBAN DAY 




SUBURBAN DAY. 

with Apologies to the Manes of Tennyson. 

(The word "manes" is not meant as a horse pun.) 




'OU must wake and call me early, 
call me early, Johnny dear; 
For to-morrow will be the great- 
est day of all the racing year. 
Of all the racing year, Johnny, the 
crasiest, wildest play ; 
For to-morrow's Suburban Day, Johnny, to- 
morrow's Suburban Day. 



There'll be ten or fifteen starters, Johnny; each 

one has got a chance. 
To try and pick the winner, Johnny, it puts me 

in a trance; 
For there's five or six I'd like to play — but I 

cannot play them all. 
So I guess ril take the ''longest" odds, and 

make my bet quite small. 



28 Racifig Rhymes. 



No, I won't put up on the favorite, Johnny, for 

I ahvays feel as if 
The "pubUc money*' in that race will make 

the best horse ''stiff." 
With Eurus and Loantaka and Tillo in my 

mind, 
I'll back some rank outsider, and just simply 

go it blind. 

There'll be a fearful crowd, Johnny, and all will 

want to bet. 
The "Holiday Pikers" will rush around for 

any odds they can get. 
The bookies will reap a harvest if the favorite 

doesn't win, 
For the public will put up on him the limit of 

their tin. 

They'll fight and squeeze and push and jam to 

get their money down, 
And the ring will be Hke Donnybrook Fair or 

a mob let loose in town; 
Yet for all their rush and hustle at the odds to 

get a w^iack. 
The chances are that few of them will get their 

money back. 



Suburban Day. 29 



I'm awful glad Suburban Day conies only once 

a year : 
For I will tell you something, Johnny, and it is 

rather queer: 
I've played the races many years, and my hair 

is turning gray, 
But I never could win a dollar on any 

Suburban Day. 

So that's the day I cut away from ''handicaps" 

and "dope," 
And simply in the foolest kind of luck I place 

my hope. 
On other days I try to bet in a scientific way, 
But I shut my eyes and ''stick a pin" when it 

comes Suburban Day. 

Then call me early, Johnny dear, and we'll go 
and get a drink; 

And we'll breakfast very leisurely; and we 
won't try to think 

Of handicaps or weights or form, and we'll put 
our "dope" away, 

For to-morrow's Suburban Day, Johnny, to- 
morrow's Suburban Day. 



BOTH WAYS. 






BOTH WAYS. 



g^ETE PLUNGER was a '^Regular," 
A "Handicapper" smart, 

^^^Who knew the records of the turf, 
And knew them all by heart. 

He'd tell a horse's pedigree 

If you but gave his name, 
And tell of every race he'd run, 

And if he'd won the same; 



He'd tell the weight that he had up. 

The jockey on his back. 
The distance of the race, and the 
. Condition of the track; 



He'd tell the odds that there were laid, 

The horses that were in — 
In short, he could tell everything 

But some sure way to win. 



34 Racing Rhymes - 



And even on that doubtful point 

He would explain to you 
A brilliant "system" that he had, 

Quite certain to "go through." 

The only things you had to have 

To make his system work 
Were fifteen thousand dollars and 

The patience of a Turk. 

It chanced that Pete had got one day 
A "dead sure" "inside tip," 

And joyfully he started for 
The track — his daily trip. 



He visited his bank and drew 

A roll of money out, 
To bet upon this "leap pipe cinch,' 

Without a single doubt; 

Because, not only had he got 
The tip so sure and straight, 

But he had also ''figured out" 
That horse's chance as "great." 



Both Ways, . 35 



And he was ready to declare, 
By all the g^ods of ''dope/' 

That only this one horse could win, 
The others had no hope. 



Now as upon the boat he went, 
En route the track to reach, 

He met his old friend, Franklin Fresch^ 
Bound for ^Manhattan Beach. 

Most highly pleased were both to meet^ 
For mighty friends were they; 

Though each one found his fun in life 
In quite a different way. 

Pete cared for nothing but a race 
Where he could make a bet; 

Frank scarcely had a race track seen,. 
Nor backed a horse as yet. 



But Frank would walk ten miles to see 

A prett} girl and flirt. 
While Pete thought less of female charms 

Than so much common dirt. 



36 Racing Rhymes. 



Yet as the boat sped fast along, 

They sat and talked apace, 
And Pete told Frank, in confidence. 

About this "cinchy" race. 

*'Say, Frank, my boy," said genial Pete, 
''You'd better come with me 

Down to the track and play that race, 
You'll sure a winner be." 



'Td like to go first rate," said Frank, 

'Tf I had not, perforce, 
To meet a lady at the Beach; 

She must not wait, of course." 

"But, then," cried Pete, ''this race is first, 
And when it's run you'll go 

Down to the Beach and meet your girl; 
She's sure to wait, you know." 



Thus urged by Pete, Frank said at last 
That at the track he'd stop, 

Provided it was certain that 
No money he would drop; 



Both Ways. 37 



"For, Pete," said he, "while I am sure 

Your tip looks very good, 
This betting business is by me 

But little understood; 



"And if I lost upon this race, 

'Twould make me feel quite bad; 

Besides the risk that I shall run 
Of making my girl mad." 



"No fear that you will lose!" cried Pete, 

"Your sure to win a pile! 
And then your girl, e'en though you're late, 

Will softly on vou smile." 



So then into the train they passed. 
And to the track did hie; 

Frank up into the grand stand went; 
Pete to the ring did fly. 



He soon returned with glowing face. 
And whispered in Frank's ear: — 

"He's favorite! He has been backed! 
He's sure to win — no fear! 



38 Racing Rhymes. 



'Tve put five hundred on myself 
What shall I bet for you? 

You'd better put up all you can, 
You'll never better lo." 



**Well, Pete," said Frank, 'Tve only got 

Just sixty here in all; 
But take the cash and put it up, 

I don't want to seem small." 



^'All right, my boy," said Pete, ''that's good! 

And though Pve played mine straight, 
I'll put your money on 'both ways,' 

That's safe, as sure as fate!" 



Then to the ring Pete runs again, 
Soon comes back very gay, 

And, giving Frank a ticket, says, 
"You've thirtv on each wav." 



The horses now are at the post; 

The "good thing" acts quite bad; 
He plunges, kicks and bucks around; 

It must be "dope" he's had. 



Both Ways, 39 



There is a weary, long delay; 

The "good thing" will not start. 
The starter jumps down from his stand 

And uses all his art. 



He rushes out upon the track 
And waves his flag, and swears; 

For starters as a rule, you know, 
Say anything but prayers. 

At last he gets them all in line, 
And jumps back on his stand. 

^'Now, if they'll only break!" cries Pete, 
"Our start will just be grand!'' 

There is a break; the flag goes down. 

'They're off!" the crowd all yell; 
But Frank hears, hissing in his ear, 

Pete's exclamation, ''H — 11!" 



And out upon the track he sees 
The ''good thing" run — alone; 

But not the way the others run, 
Thev far awav have flown. 



40 Racifi^ Rhymes. 



For as the starter dropped his flag, 
The "good thing" wheeled around 

And ran the wrong way of the track, 
His backers to confound. 

And many an angry groan goes forth, 
And many a muttered curse, 

And many a man is thinking of 
His amputated purse. 

Poor Pete himself is wild with rage, 

And loudly vents his ire; 
Then turns around to comfort Frank,. 

Whose pluck he does admire. 

For Frank has never said a word, 
But smiles with face serene, 

While Pete expected that he'd be 
With consternation green. 



He laughs at Pete's grim, rueful face, 
And cries, to Pete's amaze, 

"Sorry for you, but Fm all right ! 
My bet was made 'BOTH WAYS!' 



FIFTY TO ONE. 



«r 




FIFTY TO ONE. 



E jumped out and beat the flag, sir, 
And opened up a gap 
Of half a dozen lengths, sir, 
Under a •'double wrap." 
Then I held my ticker tighter, 
For it looked like a good thing ; 
'Twas only loo to 2, sir, 

But I felt just like a king. 
I shouted 'They'll never get near him! 

"My horse they'll never ketch!" 
But he faltered on the turn, sir. 
And "blew up" in the stretch. 

He finished an awful last, sir, 

And I threw my ticket away. 
I felt confounded bad, sir; 

Twas such a likely play ! 
The jockey that was on him, sir. 

Is my pertic'ler friend; 
He told me they had backed him, sir, 
And he'd ride "from end to end." 



44 



Racing Rhymes. 



Besides the trainer told me 
That he wasn't out for fun, 

But was "tryin' " for a "killin';" 
And the price, sir! — Fifty to One.l 




THREE GREAT BABIES. 




THREE GREAT BABIES. 



jH K ^ HESE are the days when youngsters 
i^ have the call 

And infant prodigies the Turf con- 
trol; 

The horseman's greatest hope seems 
now to fall 
Upon the future of some unseen foal. 
That ancient proverb, ''Do not try to count 
Your chickens ere they're hatched/" is ob- 
solete; 
The richest golden flood from fortune's fount 
Elows toward some unborn colt who'll be 
most fieet. 



The grand "Euturity," that glorious prize, 
And countless other two-year-old rich 
stakes 

Hold forth their tempting bait before the eyes 
Of each ambitious owner; and he takes 



48 Racing Rhymes. 



More pains, and feels more pride, and spends 
more cash 
To get a possibly great two-year-old 
Than e'er he would some record fast to smash. 
Thus is the Turf by youngsters now con- 
trolled. 



Of all the many infants of this kind 

Who have been public idols in their days, 
A few there are whom specially we find 

Worthy of lasting fame and loudest praise: 
And three of these stand out from all the rest 

So grandly prominent in their career, 
So fully equal to the hardest test, 

That we are fain to sing their praises here. 



HIS HIGHNESS. 
(Ran as a Two- Year-Old in 1891. Won $108,000.00.) 

Grand sounding and patrician is the name 

Of this great horse; and he did not belie 
His title, but did well uphold the same 

In those fierce contests which his speed did 
try. 



Three Great Babies 49 



Son of a "Princess," precedence he took 
In a most literal sense, for when he ran 

No one in front of him his pride would brook, 
And at the finish he would lead the van. 

In his imperial two-year-old career, 

Up to "six figures" did his winnings mount; 
Record but few can show; and hence 'tis clear 

He should among the great immortals 
count. 
Yet we do not lucre homage pay 

Or on mere gain bestow the highest meed; 
We praise His Highness in the sportsman's 
way 

For stamina and pluck and splendid speed. 

Now from the Turf's most active life he's 
passed, 
And as a sire is gaining honors new; 
His offspring have his courage and are fast, 

And glorious deeds we look for them to do. 
He is in worthy hands, for we are sure 

That, placed among the magnates of the 
sport, 
His present owner's fame you'll find secure 
In all good ways which Fortune's blessings 
court. 



50 Racing Rhymes^ 

DOMINO. 
(Ran as a Two-Year-Old in 1893. Won $180,000.00.) 

''Black Whirlwind" was the title thou didst 
gain, 
And nobly didst thou win it through that 
burst 
Of overwhelming speed, which, in thy strain. 
Stands out above all other things the first. 
Gameness thou hadst, and stamina as well. 

Coupled with gentleness and temper mild; 
For all thy greatness, I have heard them tell 
That thou couldst have been ridden by a 
child. 

Rich was the winning which thy triumphs 
made — 

A fortune in itself — a mighty sum! 
High on the golden list it stands displayed. 

To be the wonder of all years to come. 
But thy proud owner, man of ventures vast. 

Of iron nerve and enterprise supreme, 
Thought more of thee than wealth that thou 
amassed ; 

Thv eains to him did but a trifle seem. 



Three Great Babies. 51 



Thus, when thou passed away, his sorrow deep 

Moved him to rear thee a memorial stone, 
Which stands above the spot where thou dost 
sleep, 
To tell the world how all thy virtues shone. 
Great son of Himyar, thou dost stand alone, 

And while the records of the turf shall last 
Thy fame the topmost place should surely 
own ; 
It might be equalled — could not be sur- 
passed. 



JEAN BERAUD. 
(Ran as a Two-Year-Old in 1898. Won $70,000.00.) 

The latest star that gloriously doth rise 

To dim the other meteors of speed 
Is Jean Beraud, a colt in whom there Hes 

An inborn power of highest type indeed. 
Son of His Highness, whom we here have 
named, 

Well qualified by ancestry is he 
To hold the place he's gained and be far-famed 

Through such a lineage of proud degree. 



52 Racing Rhymes. 

Fortunate, too, is he, in that his lot 

Is toi be owned by one whose honored name 
Lends to the Turf that lustre which is not 

Brought save by those who spotless records 
claim. 
When he who wisely steered our ships of state 

Gave to the sport his countenance and 
means. 
Every true turfman's heart felt pleasure great, 

Because such aids ennobles racing scenes. 

So' let us, to this latest brilliant star 

Wish all success in his career to be, 
To spread his name abroad, both near and far, 

That all the racing world his fame may see. 
Worthy is he to rank with Domino 

And with His Highness — more cannot be 
said; 
"For these few words his greatness fully show 

And rank him as a wondrous thorough- 
bred." 

L'ENVOI. 

Think then of these great three — of others, 
too, 
Proud, well known names on which we fain 
would dwell. 
But that a volume's space would scarcely do 

Should we essay of all such stars to tell. 
Then it may be that we will, one and all. 

Say it is well, as on the seasons roll, 
That these are davs when voungsters have the 
call 
And infant prodigies the Turf control. 



PAROLE. 



f 




PAROLE. 



•(Dean Swift, In writing of the Houyhnhnms, makes us infer that 
horses have souls. The writer believes so. at all events.) 



ET me tell again how old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
Raced for honor of his native land, 
Far away upon a foreign strand. 
Let me tell again how wxll he won — 

Nobly done! — 
While our English cousins all exclaimed 
That to lose they did not feel ashamed, 
When a gallant horse like old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
Beat their best ones hollow; 'Tor," said they 
''Such ahorse we don't see everv day." 



Our good English cousins saw Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
In their ''City and Suburban" race. 
Show their thoroughbreds a winning pace. 



56 Racing Rhymes. 

It was nearly twenty years ago; 

But I know 
That it seems like yesterday to me 
When I journeyed forth that race to see. 
I had heard that plucky old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
Was to start in their great race that day, 
And I went my country's horse to play. 

So I put my cash on old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
While my English friends stood by and 

laughed, 
And my ''Yankee Cheek" they gaily chafifed; 
*'Ah," said they, ''now do you really think" — 

With a wink — 
"That your Yankee horse can beat our 

cracks? 
He can't run upon our English tracks!" 
"Well," said I, 'T like our old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
And I love my native Yankee land; 
And my bet is down — so there I stand! " 

Soon the race was off; and old Parole — 
Bless his soul! — 



Farole. 57 



Came along as steady as a clock, 
And as solid as old Plymouth Rock, 
Rating on with honest measured pace 

Through the race. 
Till the finish came, and then he shook 
Off the others one by one and took 
The lead. Then roared I "Come on, old 

Parole!— 

Bless your soul! — 
Show them what a Yankee horse can do!" 
"Hail Columbia!" and "I^ed, White and 

Blue!" 



Past the winning post dashed old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
And behind him followed England's best. 
Patriotic fervor swelled my breast, 
And I shouted "Now, boys, don't you 
think"— 

\\'ith a wink — 
"That our Yankee horse, on English tracks, 
Can hold his own with some of England's 

cracks? 
Here's three cheers for honest old Parole! — 

"Bless his soul!" — 



58 Racing Rhymes. 



Mv English friends joined in them loud and 

strong; 
For generous thoughts to English hearts 

.belong. 

Yes, they cheered for gallant old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
And we went and drank his health in wine, 
Until I felt as if the world were mine. 
Glory to our glorious land ! — 

May it stand 
First in racing, as in everything! 
Honor to the sportsmen kings who bring 
Forth such horses as our old Parole — 

Bless his soul! — 
Who upheld the colors that he bore 
And brought them back in triumph to our 
shore. 




^ 



THE GENTLEMAN TOUT, 





THE GENTLEMAN TOUT. 

ILL you kindly let me glance upon 
your card, sir? 
I've dropped mine somewhere 
down here in the ring." 
I turned, and at my shoulder 
stood a stranger, 
With look and dress and manner ''quite the 
thing;" 
His words were with the most politeness 
spoken, 
?Iis face expanded in a gentle smile — 
A perfect gentleman he seemed, most surely. 
And guileless as to any trick or wile. 



I handed him my card; he scanned it quickly, 
Cried "Ah! I thought so!" — then he gave 
it back 
Saying, "Thank you, sir," and turned away 
and left me. 
Going out beyond the ring, toward the 
track. 



62 Racing Rhymes. 

Five minutes later, once again I saw him; 

He nodded to me with a knowing wink, 
As to a book maker some words he uttered; 

The bookie smiled— it was good news, I 
think. 

Then stepping to my side he softly whispered, 

'T'm feeling pretty sure what horse will win; 
In fact, I've just had first class information 

That lightning fast his latest work has been; 
I also know the stable's backed him heavy — 

His price has just gone a point or two; 
And so I've just put up my last cent on him — 

I thought I'd like to give the tip to you. 

'The reason that I asked to see your card, sir, 

Was that a friend of mine, a week ago, 
Told me 'The Kempton Stable" had a gelding 
Who soon would win — my friend is ''in the 
know." 
I noticed by your card "The Kempton Stable" 
Own Parachute, and then I rushed, of 
course. 
To see this friend of mine, and when I found 
him 
I asked him if that was the proper horse? 



The Genilema7i Tout. 63 



''He told me that it was. and also urged me 

To play it hard, and added then besides 
About his work, and how^ the stable backed 
him: 
I went and interviewed the boy who rides, 
Whom I know well; he told me that his or- 
ders 
Were to make every post a winning one, 
And that in warming up his mount he'd 
noticed 
That he was fit, and very full of run. 

''So I made up my mind that I would press it^ 

And, as I said, have just bet my last cent, 
Which I would never do unless quite certain 

The horse I backed was "fit" to win and 
"meant." 
Then seeing you, remeni1:)ering your polite- 
ness, 

I thought that for it T might make return 
By telling you about this information 

Concerning Parachute, which I just learn."" 

In those days I was innocent and "easy;" 
And he seemed such an honest, pleasant 
chap. 



64 Racing Rhymes. 



I swallowed with avidity his story — 
Even as a toothless infant swallows pap; 

So, though I had already backed ''my fancy" 
For "five each way," which was my usual 
stake, 

I went and put on Parachute a ''Fifty," 
Determined that I'd either make or break. 

My new found friend stood hy me while I 
bet it 
And heartily approved of what I'd done; 
Then said he'd meet me when the race was 
over. 
When he supposed I'd feel like ''standing 
one;" 
To this I very joyfully assented, 

Whereon he left me "to look up a friend," 
While I, to see the race, from out the ring 
went 
And up into the stand my way did wend. 

The start was quickly made — the race was 
over — 

And Parachute was never in the hunt; 
But my own choice, on whom I bet ten dollars, 

Won easily, and alwavs was in front; 



The G 671 He man Tout. 65 

Porty I won on him, but that just left me 
Ten dollars out on the whole blessed thing. 

And feeling very sore about that ''Fifty," 
I started to go down toward the ring. 

While standing on the stairs, I saw before me 

My ''friend" who had on Parachute orone 
broke ; 
He did not notice I was there behind him, 

And thus I heard some words he gaily spoke 
Unto the man who by his side was walking: 

"Well, didn't I tell you that he'd surely win? 
I hope you put a good big swell bet on it 

And feel like letting me for some stand in!" 

When I heard this it fazed me not a little: 
I had some faint suspicion of the game : 
And later on I met a friend and told him 
About the chap, and well described the 
same; 
It happened that just then I once more spied 
him. 
And to my friend the man I pointed out ; 
He cried "Oh! that's your precious fellow, 
is it? 
He's nothing but an "All Round," "Sure 
Thing'' Tout!" 



THE DARK SKINNED TOUT, 




THE DARK SKINNED TOUT. 



^g(^/^AY, boss, I sees yo' gwine ter 
^^ play, sah; 




Jest step er leetle bit dis way, 
sah. 

Ef yo' am gwine ter play Jim Hood, sah, 
I tells yo' dat boss ain't no good, sah. 
Come aw^a-a-ay! 
Don' yo' pla-a-ay — 
Don' play nuthin' but what I say! 

"Wha' fur yo' play on dat ole boss, sah? 
Dat boss kain't win dis-yere race, boss, sah. 
Lem'me put yo' on; I kin give yo' de winner; 
Ef I don', yo' kin call me er doggone sinner. 

Come awa-a-ay! 

Don' yo' pla-a-ay — 
Don' play nuthin' but what I say! 

"Yo' see dat mar'? She' ll be de winner; 
Dey's layin' ten ter one agin her; 



yo Racing Rhymes. 

Jest go an' put five on dat mar', boss; 
She'll win, an' win it right- smart far, boss. 

Come awa-a-ay! 

Don' yo' pla-a-ay — 
Don' play nuthin' but what I say. 

*'My ne'vew work in dat mar's stable; 
He say dat mar'es sure 'nuff able 
Ter show her heels ter de hull bilin', 
An' fer er race she's jest er spilin'. 

Come awa-a-ay! 

Don' yo' pla-a-ay — 
Don' play nuthin ' but what I say! 

'^He work dat mar' de oder mornin', 
Befo' de day wuz done er dawnin' ; 
She runned de quarter in twenty-t'ree — 
Ain' dat enuff fer yo' an' me? 

Come awa-a-ay! 

Don' yo' pla-a-ay — 
Don' play nuthin' but what I say! 

''Wha'-wha'-wha's dat yo' say ter me? "Git 

out!'"' boss? 
I tells yo' dat I ain't no tout, boss. 



The Dar'k Skinned Tout. 



71 



"Ef yo' don' wan' ter take dis tip, sah, 

'Go an' lose yo' money- an' I'll jest skip, sah. 

Go awa-a-ay ! 

Don' yo' play-a-ay — 
X)on' play nuthin' dat dis chile say!" 




THE TOUGH TOUT. 





THE TOUGH TOUT. 

OOK 'ere, mister, lemme tell yer 
Dat dis bloody roice's fixed. 
Don't yer go 'n lose yer boodle 

An' wid all dem jays get mixed; 
Let er cove wot ''knows it" tell yer 
De best t'ing yer ever see — 
Den go in 'n sock it heavy. 
An' put sunthin' on fer me. 



"Dan McGinnis, on de Bowery, 

Runs er gin mill — know 'im well- 
Las' night, w'en we wliz er' lushin' 
Got ter feelin' fine 's 'ell. 
'E Stan's in wid all dese trainers. 
An' 'e sez ter me, sez 'e, 
^Tetey, I kin make yer fortin. 

If yer'll keep it dark now, see?" 

■''Den I sez, sez I, 'T'm fly Dan, 

Wot yer tells no furder goes.' 
An' he flashes out dis good t'ing. 
An' de trick ter me 'e shows; 



76 Racing Rhymes 

All de bosses in dis bizness 
Is dead stiff ter Jnmpin' Jack; 

'E's de boss dat's got ter win it, 
'E's de only boss ter back. 

''All de jock 's goin' ter lally, 

An' let Jumpin' Jack walk in; 
All dem odder bosses' trainers 

On de Jack lias got deir tin; 
An' 'e's goin' ter get de start, too; 

Fur de boys hez got down ; 
Dat't wot Dan McGinnis telled me, 

Wile de drinks 'e passed aroun'. 

''I wuz goin' ter play dis good t'ing. 

But I wuz er bloomin' cbump; 
Los' me money on de fust roice — 

Put 't all up in er lump. 
T'ougbt dat fust roice wuz er lay-down. 

An'. I'd git er wad ter bet 
On dis cincb — an' lemme tell yer. 

It's er moral! — don't forget! 

''I don't ougbt ter give dis tip out, 
Dan wud sniasb me fer dis play; 

But I'm broke an' wan' ter bet it; 
T'ougbt I'd put yer on de lay, 



The Tough Tout. 'j'j 

'Cause I seen yer bet 'em heavy, 
An' I t'ought yer'd stake me, too. 

Go 'n put er hun'red on it ! 

Dis 'ere job's er goin' t'rough. 

"Wot! Yer've got anodder boss played? 

Hully Gee! Dat makes me sick! 
Go 'n get dat money off, now! 

Make er sneak 'n get it quick! 
Fur de bosses is er goin' 

To de post — don't lose yer cbance! 
Change de bet ter Jumpin' Jack, boss! 

Dis 'ere ain't no sone and dance! 



"Wot! Yer goin' ter stan' pat, den, 

W'en yer know about dis job? 
Den go put five on fer me, boss — 

Pay yer back, so 'elp me Bob ! 
Wot! Yer ain't er goin' ter do dat? 

W'en r,ve telled yer 'bout dis t'ing? 
Well, yer sure to lose yer money, 

Fer yer up agin "De Ring.'' '' 



TWO KINDS. 




^ HE race was done. I stood upon 
the lawn, 
Gazing about me at the moving- 
throng. 

Nothing cared I which way that 
race had gone; 
Por, while I ne^'er was a bettor strong, 
'On that event T had not bet one cent, 
And, as I said, cared not which way it went. 



It really was amusing to remark 

The various expressions on the faces; 

From barn-door grins to frowns like midnight 

dark, 
As gain or loss had left their varying traces. 
Almost each man whose looks my glances met 
Apparently had made his little bet. 



82 Racing Rhymes. 



One gay young swell was hurrying toward the 

ring, 
A fellow dressed in Fashion's latest mode; 
He looked as happy as a new made king 
Or like a man who never tailor owed; 
Within his hand a ticket close he held; 
With winning pride his shirt-front fairly 

swelled. 

Just as he passed me by he met a friend, 
And stopped and slapped him gayly on the 

back, 
Sx.ying in tones that all the air did rend, 
''Hurrah! Look here! You bet I've got 'em; 

Jack!" 
And to his brother swell, like him arrayed, 
His ticket he triumphantly displayed. 

''Heavens!" thought I, "he must have hit it- 
hard; 
A hundred dollar bet he must have booked!" 
And as the distance was about a yard 
I cautiously upon his ticket looked. 
The winner's price was eight — that much I 

knew; 
Our young friend's ticket read — ''i6 to 2.'' 



Two Kinds. 85 



Near to my side had stood throughout the 

race 
A plain old man, one rather roughly clad, 
Who showed no sign upon his hard-lined face 
That any interest in the race he had; 
And as I once had looked this man upon 
He seemed, Hke me, only a looker on. 



The finish was a close one; and so hot 
That, till the winning numbers were displayed, 
No one could tell which horse the race had 

got. 
The old man then one quiet question made: 
''My eyes are getting rather old to see; 
Tell me, sir, is that top one 5 or 3?" 



He, too, had marked the scene the swells be- 
tween 

And marked the winner's exultation wild; 

Then, as they hurried off along the green, 

He turned around to me and grimly smiled. 

'Tt's hard," said he, ''to see how some folks 
win ; 

I can't get that much pleasure — dang my 
skin!" 



84 Racmg Rhymes. 



So saying, down his hairy, brown hand went 
Into his trousers pocket, and brought out 
A bunch of tickets, crumpled up and bent. 
Thought I, "They're losing ones, without a 

doubt. 
For his old face looked solemn as an owl, 
And his remark was something like a growl. 

He counted out those tickets, one by one, 

Slowly and carefully. I, looking on, 

Could scarce believe my eyes when he had 

done 
And quietly toward the ring had gone. 
Twenty-three winning tickets did the old man 

get; 
Each one a fifty or a hundred dollar bet ! 




^ 



THE BOOKYMONSTER, 



1 




THE BOOKYMONSTER. 



EWARE! Beware! Avoid his lair! 

Ele thirsteth for thy money. 
He lies in wait within that gate. 

By yonder course so sunny. 
He'll lure thee on with cunning- 
tongue 
In his sweet odds to revel, 
That of thy cash he may make hash 
And send thee to the devil. 

Look out! Look out! There is no doubt 

If once his spell o'ertakes you, 
Your purse he'll seize and he will ''freeze 

Y^ou out'' until he breaks you. 
Your every cent for him is- meant 

If once you let him charm you; 
Therefore take heed while thus I plead, 

*'Stay oft'" and he won't harm you. 



THE TRUE BOOKMAKER. 




THE TRUE BOOKMAKER. 




H ! a jolly old soul is the bookmaker; 

Yes, a jolly old soul is he, 
As he smiles on his box 
While he handles his ' 'rocks, " 

With his eailant assistants three. 



Oh! a crafty old soul is the bookmaker; 

See him finger his bit of chalk, 
As he "marks 'em up" here, 
And he "marks 'em down" there. 

While he gives you his cunning talk. 

Oh! a nervy old soul is the bookmaker; 

For he often is forced to play 
In a desperate game. 
Where a slip, if it came. 

Would sweep him and his money away. 

So he needs all his wits, does the bookmaker, 
When the plungers are after his cash; 

And e'en his own kind. 

He will frequently find. 

Have been plotting to send him to smash. 



92 Rad?ig Rhymes. 



But an honest old soul is the bookmaker; 

If you happen to hand him a ''roll" 
Which exceeds what you bet, 
You are likely to get 

Back the surplus — he'll not keep the whole. 



And a kindly old soul is the bookmaker; 

His hand is e'er open to aid 
A friend who's in need; 
None in vain to him plead 

If a good, honest case they have made. 

So, take him all 'round, the real bookmaker 

Is an excellent kind of a man; 
He need cause no alarm, 
For he does much less harm 

Than your brokers and stock-jobbers can. 



And though, now and then, there's a book- 
maker 

Who brings disrepute on his class, 
By some action not "white" 
Or some trick that's not right, 

'Tis but rarely he's found — let him pass. 



The True Bookmaker. 93 



So, when people sneer at the bookmaker, 
They are showing how Httle they know^; 

For his record's as fair 

And his hfe is as square 

As ''the odors of sanctity" show^ 






THE START. 





THE START. 

UMING, fretting and curvetting; 
Fifteen horses at the post; 
Half a dozen of them "bad ones;" 

Hard to tell which kicks the most. 
Starter swearing, little caring 
Whether he is heard or not. 
His assistant, whip persistent, 
Stirs the boiling equine pot. 

"''Now, you jock there! run a l^lock there 

Will you, wdien you l^reak again?" ^ 
Then that kid receives a blessing 

In choice words, which I won't pen. 
''Here now, Billy, don't get silly! 

Turn your horse's head around! 
Or ril bet you I will set you 

Down upon the cold, cold ground! 

"Jack, come up there! Lash that pup, there, 
Sam, if he stays back like that! — 

Well, if this don't beat the devil! 
What's got into you, now, Pat? — 



98 Racing Rhymes. 

Sam, just catch him! Wish they'd scratch him 

Or refuse to let him run — 
That d — d kicker! Come! Get thicker! 

Line up, bless (?) you — every one! 

*'Are you ready? Now there! Steady! 

BREAK! — Confound your blooming eyest 
What d'ye mean by standing still there? — 

Such a monkey I despise!" 
By this token, all have broken 

But one horse, who still hangs back; 
Gone the rest are, and the best are 

Now half way around the track. 

While returning, language burning- 
Greets that jockey whose hard fate 

Finds him mounted on the sulker 
Who has caused the start to wait. 

E'en they fine him, or consign him 
To the ranks of those who walk; 

And he's lucky, that same duck he 
Is, to get oft with a ''talk." 

Once again they group, and then they 

All their tricks and kicks renew; 
While the starter, getting madder,, 

Lets himself out ''not a few." 



The Start. 99 



Fines them plenty — ten or twenty — 

Even fifty — sometimes more; 
Or suspends them, and that ends them 

Till ''the powers" their rights restore. 

Weary waiting — crowd belating; 

Bettors anxious; judges cross; 
Everybody quite disgusted; 

Starter, even, at a loss. 
Horses skipping — Sam keeps whipping — 

Will they never get away? 
All revolting, kicking, bolting; 

Looks like they were there to stay. 

Now they gather. That's good, rather; 

Only one or two still lag. 
Starter gives a final caution — 

''Now look out there!" — lifts his flag — 
"GO!" They've started! Off they've dart- 
ed; 

Not together — for a part 
Go a-sailing — others trailing; 

Prettvbad! But it's a start! 



THE FINISH, 



* 




THE FINISH, 



OUND the turn, with a desperate 

dash, 
Into the stretch they swing. 
Seven horses are all abreast, 
Flying as if a-wing. 
Every jockey is riding with vim; 
With tight set teeth and with visage grim; 
The stake is rich, and a win for him 
Will be a glorious thing. 



Thousands of pairs of eager eyes 

Are watching them "straighten out;" 

Thousands of hearts are throbbing fast 

With fear or hope or doubt. 

The plunger's plunge and the piker's bet 

Alike in the balance hang as yet. 

For none can tell who the race will get 

In such a hard fought bout. 



Four of the seven falter and fail, 
Falling back to the rear; 



I04 Racing Rhymes 



One of the others forges ahead, 

Making his backers cheer. 

He, the favorite, sticks to the rail. 

But the other two are at his tail. 

Their jockeys riding with tooth and nail;. 

Any one's race, 'tis clear. 



One of the rear guard comes again. 

Catches the leading three; 

A rank outsider, and all unbacked, 

Any one there can see. 

All the cheering dies out and ends; 

Only the bookmakers and their friends 

"Call on" the horse who now contends; 

No favorite is he. 



The leader's jockey draws his whip; 

The bookies loudly yell. 

The rank outsider gains inch by inch; 

His jockey rides him well! 

Falls the whip on the favorite's flank; 

His backers' faces look dazed and blank;. 

Their hopes of winning suddenly sank 

When that one whip stroke fell. 



The Finish 105 



Now they are lighting it neck and neck; 

Only a few yards more ! 

The favorite gets his head in front; 

His backers give a roar; 

His jockey, the crack boy of the day, 

Lifts his horse in a masterly way; 

Every muscle is put in play; 

Game is he, to the core! 



Yet the outsider hangs grimly on. 

'Tf better jock were there, 

He'd win, and win it easily!" 

The "rail birds" all declare. 

Bvit a premier jock the favorite rides; 

He gets in his work in the last few strides. 

And like a Hash past the wire glides — 

Wins the race — "bv a hair!" 



16^ 



HOW CLARA DIDN'T BET. 




HOW CLARA DIDN'T BET. 

OW — let — me — see. Who starts in 

this? I really do not know 
What I shall play. Dear me! my 
programme's lost! Where did 
it go? 
I'll have to buy another one. No, here it is! 

How nice! 
It makes me feel so cross to have to buy a 

programme twice. 
Now — let — me — see. What's number six? 

I always look there first. 
Good lands! it is that horrid horse that's 

owned by Mr. Hearst; 
I wouldn't bet a cent on him, for — only 

think! — one day 
He beat a horse that I had played, though it 

led all the way; 
That's made me hate him ever since. But I 

like "Number Six," 
For that's my lucky number. Oh! there's 

Tom! He always picks 
Such splendid winners! Come here, Tom, and 

tell me what is good. 
You like that horse of Mr. Heart's? I didn't 

think you would. 



no Racing Rhymes. 



Now it is just an awful shame for you to tell 

me that; 
Because you know I will not bet on him — and 

that is flat! 
Do tell me something else. You can't? Then^ 

sir, you just can leave. 
How you can like that mean old horse I really 

can't conceive. 
Now — let — me — see. Here's Sweetheart in. 

That's such a lovely name 
That I believe I'll bet on him; it will be all the 

same, 
For any horse can come in first; and — oh! 

there's Mrs. Pike! 
I'll speak to her. Say, Mrs. P., do tell me 

what you like. 
You like that horse of Mr. Hearst's? Good 

gracious! it's too bad! 
Every one likes that nasty horse but me. It 

makes me mad. 
And he's my lucky number, too! Perhaps I 

ought — but no; 
I'll bet on anything but him, because I hate 

him so! 
Now — let — me — see. Here's Lucky Dog; he 
won one day last year; 



How Clara Didn't Bet iii 



Maybe this year he'll win again — Oh, boy! 

please come up here! 
(Those stupid boys are all so slow!) Who's 

favorite clown there? 
That wretched horse of Mr. Hearst's! Well, 

I Vvill just declare! 
Seven to five? It seems to me those odds are 

very small; 
W' hy, if he won you'd scarcely get back any- 
thing at all. 
What's Sweetheart's price? Fifteen to one! 

Now isn't that too nice! 
I'd like so much to win a bet at such a lovely 

price; 
I'd buy myself a new silk dress, and — Now — 

just — let — me — see. 
I'll look at my progrannne again. No, boy; 

don't wait. Here's three 
Other nice names; I like them all. Japonica — 

that's sweet! 
And Love's Delight — how nice that is! And 

here's Flying Feet. 
Such pretty names' But then I think that 

Sweetheart is the best; 
I guess I'll make a bet on him; he ought to 

beat the rest. 



112 Racing Rhymes. 

Why, goodness me! They're at the post! Oh, 

dear! Where is that boy? 
I'll lose my chance! If I don't bet, the race I 

won't enjoy. 
There! They are off! I told you so! And 

Sweetheart is ahead. 
He's going to win! It's just my luck! Re- 
member what I said! 
See that old horse of Mr. Hearst's; he cannot 

run a bit! 
He's nearly last. My stars! this thing almost 

gives me a fit! 
They're in the stretch; see Sweetheart run! 

I'm sure he's going to win; 
If I had only bet on him, how glad I would 

have been! 
Oh! what is that? That horrid horse of Mr. 

Hearst's is next — 
He's catching Sweetheart! Now, just look! 

He's gaining! How I'm vexed! 
That old horse wins! And only think! Tom 

told me I must get 
Nothins: but him! And Mrs. Pike! I'm sure 

that way she bet ! 
It's just too bad! I'm positive, if that boy had 

stayed there 
I would have put my bet on him. It almost 

makes me swear! 



LOOK ON THIS PICTURE 



AND THEN ON THIS 




LOOK Ox\ THIS PICTURE 




LL the crowd are gayly cheering 
When the favorite wins. 
And there's wining and there's 
beering 
When the favorite w^ins. 
And the bookies all are paying, 
And the bettors smart things saying, 
And they're anxious for more playing 
When the favorite wins. 




AND THEN ON THIS. 

HERE'S a silence and a sadness 
^ When the long shot wins. 

There's a crowd that's sour to mad- 
ness 

Wlien the long shot wins. 
And the bookies all are smiling, 
And with jokes the time beguiling, 
And with cash their boxes pihng 
Wlien the long shot v/ins. 



LEFT AT THE POST. 





LEFT AT THE POST. 



OUND him? W'ell, my dear feller, 
you'd better bet your life! 
As hard as any drunken longshore- 
man ever pounded his wife. 
I had in my clothes altogether just 
one hundred and seventy-five; 
And I put it all on — every dollar — as sure as 

you're alive. 
I felt so dead sure of winnin' that if I could 

have pa^^•ned my socks 
I'd have put that money up besides. Why, he 

would have won by blocks : 
For there wasn't a bit of a question but wdiat 

he was the best boss 
And trained to the minute. And backed ? — 

like there couldn't be no loss. 
Only a few of us good ones — Tom's friends — 

were "in the know;" 
By George! if we had pulled it off how we'd 
made the champagne flow! 



1 20 Racing Rhymes. 



They opened him up at sixes and we backed 

him down to threes; 
And four or five of the bookies got pretty 

weak in the knees 
And refused him altogether. Tom put fifteen 

hundred up, 
And tokl me his boss w^ould win sure . Con- 
found that dirty pup 
Of a starter! He had five good breaks, at the 

least; 
And Tom's boss was always jumpin' out like 

a bullet that is greased, 
And the others all got off well too; but he 

wouldn't drop the flag; 
Looked to me Uke he wanted to favor some 

other feller's nag. 
Anyway he kept 'em standin' there for just 

about half an hour, 
While Tom was a-cussin' and swearin' for all 

that was in his power; 
Because his colt is nervous, and likes to get 

away quick. 
And if he's fussed about at the post sometimes 

he won't run a lick. 
For all that Tom's jock had orders to drive 

him for all he was worth, 



Left at the Fost. 121 



And sure he was fit that very day to beat any- 
thin' on earth; 
Besides, the kid had on himself a fifty dollar 

bet 
And a couple of hundred from us boys was 

pretty sure to get. 
If they'd waited even another half hour, and 

then given him a show, 
There wasn't one in that field but what he 

could have made look slow; 
But when that fool of a starter dropped the 

flag" and gave the word 
(It wouldn't have pleased him very much if he 

could have only heard 
What Tom and us fellers called him), our boss 

was standin' flat. 
With his head turned round the other way; 

and I will eat my hat 
If the others weren't a sixteenth off before he 

could get around. 
Then that skin of a starter says to our jock,. 

"Now, sir, you can stay on the ground 
For a week, because, with the others you 

wouldn't try to break." 
Holy Moses! but that was the worst of all! 

The dirtv bloomin' fake! 



122 Racing Rhymes. 



To burn up our good money, and then lay the 

blame on our jock! 
It's good I wasn't at the post; I'd a hit him 

with a rock; 
Or anyway I'd a-cussed him hard. No matter 

what they done. 
Let 'em rule me off if they wanted to! The 

sneakin' son of a gun ! 
Well, it's over, and I'm busted. If you've got 

a dollar to spare 
Let me have it till to-morrer, for I only paid 

my fare 
One way, and I don't feel now much like want- 
in' to walk back 
To the city and go without supper after gettin' 

such a crack. 
For I can stand most anythin' and never turn a 

hair; 
I can lose my money by a nose, and you'll 

never hear me swear; 
I can get on a "stiff" or be t'rown down and 

drop a pile of tin, 
Or have my boss "pulled" out of the race — and 

vou'U onlv see me grin. 



Left at the Post. 123 

But there's one swipe I can't stand at all, and 

it knocks me in a heap ; 
And makes me want to tear my hair, and cuss, 

and swear, and weep; 
For I feel like a man who's just been hung 

and sees his grandmother's ghost 
When I back a hoss that couldn't lose — and 

see him LEFT AT THE POST. 




PUER STABULL 



t^ 



SCENE FROM 

THE TRAGEDY OF 



PUER STABULI" 

("THE STABLE BOY") 



(The manuscript of this tragedy is supposed to have been discov- 
ered in the ruins of thf hippodrome at Pompeii; and the same, 
in a fragmentary condition, is noiv in possessio7i of the 
author, ivho has made a very liberal translation from 
the Latin of the folloiving scene, found in some of 
the best preserved portions of the manuscript. 



CHARACTERS: 

JIMICIUS MACORMIUUS, A Roman Trainer. 

TODDIO SLOANIO A Popular Roman Jock. 

SAMBONIUS NIGER A Rubber-Down. 

PUER STABULI, The Stable-boy. 

(NOTE— It is a singular thing that while this tragedy is 
called " Puer Stabuli," " The Stable Boy," and while he is sup- 
posed to be the principal character, yet he never really ajDpears 
upon the scene as a speaker in any of the parts or fragments of 
the Latin manuscript which the author has in his possession. 
The author believes, however, that this same idea has obtained 
in several other antique tragedies and comedies, whose writers 
have named the same after some character who never really 
appears on the stage in a speaking part.) 



128 Racing Rhymes. 



ACT II. SCENE I. 



Evenmg, A Track Stable; Stalls ivith Horses, Buckets, Blankets 
General Racing Stable Paraphernalia. 

JIMICIUS MACORMICUS. (Alone, anl seated upon an 
inverted bucket; his head leaning upon his hand; musing in 
-deep thought.) 

Jim Mac. — An incubus rides on my mind to- 
night, 
Yet can I not unfathom what it is. 
The stars all tell me something is not right. 
And still methinks I understand my biz. 
(Calls) Sambonius! Without, there! 

[Enter Sambonius Niger.] 

Sam. — Yes, Mars' Jim. 

Jim Mac. — Have all the horses had their usu- 
al feed? 
Sam. — Yes, sah; deys all done eat fust rate but 
him (points to a horse); 
He wouldn't take no oats, indeedy-deed. 
Jim Mac. — Ha! This is strange! 

(Aside.) There is some mischief here. 
(To Sam.) Was any stranger snooping 

round to-day? 
And have you kept close watch? 
Sam. — Yes, sah; dis yere 

Ole coon hab not one minnit been away. 



Puer Stabuli. 129 



Jim Alac. — Tis well. 

(Aside.) I feel that I can trust this coon; 
And yet my mind is sadly ill at ease — 
He seems so faithful; gets his work done 

soon. 
And always tries his very best to please. 
(To Sam) Tell me now, Sam, who gave yon 
horse his work? 
Sam. — Dat dar new stable-boy done tuk him 

out. 
Jim Mac. — You mean the one who always 
tries to shirk 
The rubbing dow'n? — of whom I've had 

some doubt 
Since first he came? 
Sam. — Yes, sah. 

Jim Mac. — Where is he now? 

Sam. — He shootin' craps down yonder by de 

fence. 
Jim INIac. — Go send him here 

[Exit Sambonius Niger.] 

Jim Mac. — (excitedly). — It would be fine, I 
vow. 
If that kid did some funny work com- 
mence! 

[A voice is lieard outside singiug. Jimioius listens attentively.] 



J30 Racing Rhymes. 



SOxNG. 

Ta, ra, ra, ra, boom de ay! 
Ever since I went away 
There's no jockey fit to play; 
That's what all the plungers say. 
While I did with Britons stay 
All my work was very gay : 
Wasn't I the boss jock, pray? 
Ta, ra, ra, ra, boom de ay ! 

Jim Mac. — That voice! It must be Toddio 

returned 
From far off Albion's shores. I'll call him 

in. 
To get his rides my soul now long has 

yearned. (Goes to stable door.) 
But lo! he comes. 

[Enter Toddio Sloanio-l 

Tod. Slo. — How goes it, you old skin? 

Jim Mac. — Welcome, my Toddio! (Em- 
braces him.) My heart is glad 
To see my peerless jockey boy once more! 
Rome heard with joy of triumphs that you 

had 
,And how your courage made officials sore. 



Piter Stabnli. 131 



Though some, through spite, your noble 

deeds decried, 
And said that you were full of red-hot 

bluff, 
Yet will you always be the Romans' pride, 
And when it comes to riding, you're the 

stuff! 

Tod. Slo. — Come off, Jimicius, don't give me 

taff'!' 
I'm not so o'reen as once I used to be. 
This guff of yours would make the horses 

laugh ; 
But it will not go down with Toddio — see? 
'Tis true in AIImou I cut it fat. 
And swiped a "bood" of Britons' rocks as 

well. 
And raised some precious rows — l:>ut what 

of that? 
Stow all that blawsted nonsense, man, and 

tell 
This rooster what you \vant — for well I 

know 
You're after something, or you wouldn't 

spout 
This balderdash about "your Toddio" so. 
ILet loose, Jimicius, and fire it out! 



132 Racing Rhymes. 



Jim Mac. — Ah, cunning Toddio! You are 
so keen 
That you divine one's thought before it's. 

thought. 
And you can see a thing before it's seen, 
And you can catch a thing before it's, 

caught. 
And you can — 
Tod. Slo. (impatiently). — Now by all the gods- 
I swear, 
Jimicius, let go! or I'll cut stick. 
Jim Mac. — Nay, nay, dear Toddio, pray heed 
my prayer; 
I need your aid to help me turn a trick! 
Tod. Slo. (aside). — I thought I sized the duf- 
fer up just right. 
He wants a ride. (To Jim Mac.) 

Ha, ha, old buck, I see! 
You've got some "good thing" bottled-uj> 

all tight 
And would, to cinch it, get a ride from me;: 
Is it not so? 
Jim Mac. — Yes, Toddio, right you are. 

I start to-morrow, in the Tiber Stake, 
An untried colt; and he should win as far 
As you can throw a stone, if you will take 



Piier Stabiili. 133 

The mount. Your stable has no entry in; 
So if you're disengaged, why, ride my colt; 
I'll guarantee you score another win: 
At springing "dark ones" I still "keep my 

holt." 
Tod. Slo. — Well, well, Jimicius — let me see — 

I'll think 
The matter over, and decide at morn. 
Jim Mac. — Nay; say yes now, or I won't 

sleep a wink; 
Don't leave me in this state of doul)t for- 
lorn. 
Ride, ride m)' colt and we will make a 

"coup;" 
You'll drain the cup of glory to the dregs! 
The colt is good; but were he not, 'tis you 
Could make him win, e'en had he but three 

legs! 
Tod. Slo. — All right, Jimicius, I guess it goes; 
But I shall want a thousand sesterces 
Cash down before I mount. You see that 

those 
Are my new terms. Besides that, if you 

please, 
You'll have to sign my written guarantee 
Swearing your horse is really good and fit, 
Or else you pay me, should it not thus be. 



134 Racing Rhymes, 



Five thousand drachmas, furthermore, to- 

wit. 
You see in Albion 1 learned some law, 
And got my ideas up about these things;. 
My new agreement's drawn without a flaw: 
All owners sign it — not excepting kings. 

Jim Mac. — Great Heavens, Toddio your 
terms are high; 
Your trip to Albion has made you stiff; 
But I will go you. None shall say that I 
About his price with Toddio had a tiff. 
But some one comes! 

[Enter Sambonius Niger, excited aud gasping 
for breath.] 

Sam. — Good golly! Massa Jim! 

Dat boy done say he "fixed" dat two-year- 
colt! 
He say you w4n no Tiber Stake wid him ! 
I try to ketch him, but he make a bolt 
And run away ! 

Jim Mac. (wildly and despairingly). — 

Great Jove! Lost! All is lost f 
That treach'rous boy has robbed me of the 

stake! 
If I could catch him, though my life it cost, 
I'd every bone within his body break! 



Puer Slabuli. 135 



Tricked! Fooled again! It almost drives 

me mad! 
The gods to ruin me most surely choose! 
Now that a mount from Toddio I had 
There was no way for me that race to losel 
Tod. Slo. (coolly). — Don't flop up, old Jim- 

icius, but reflect 
That though your luck is bad it might be 

worse. 
All trainers must these little things expect; 
And think what would have happened to 

your purse 
If you had not found out this job so soon: 
Your colt then would have started quite 

unlit, 
And you'd have had to pay me to the tune 
Of just five thousand drachmas. So, old 

man, 
Let that console you, if there's aught that 

can. 
(Going.) I think that I'll be off the town 

toward. 
Brace up ! Good night ! 
Jim Alac. (mechanically). — Good night. 

(wildly.) All lost! 
Sam. (mournfully). — Good Lawd! 



136 



Racing Rhymes. 



(NOTE— In presenting this curious specimen of antique 
racing liistory to the reader, it must be uoderstood that the au- 
thor has modernized to a considerable extent in translating 
from his fragmentary Latin manuscript. For instance, the 
song which is sung by Toddio is, in the original, a popular Ro- 
man ditty of that day having the refrain, 

"Hie, Haec, Hoc, et Hujus Tres!" 
the form of which is so similiar to that of "Ta, ra, ra, ra, Boom 
<ie ay," that the author thought it justifiable to render it as 
given. And so, in translating, with" various other points.) 




ALL KINDS OF LUCK. 



i* 




ALL KINDS OF LUCK. 

^ --♦ 

W AS loafing in the paddock 

On a sizzling summer day, 
When the mercury was soaring 
In a most ambitious way; 
It had reached about a hundred 
And it promised higher yet, 
So I'd just aJDOut decided 
That it was too hot to bet: 

When Jim Jones, who owais 'The Fizzer," 

Came and whispered in my ear: — 
"Say, old boy, just keep it quiet 

And ril give you a good steer; 
Tramp's part owner has just told me 

That he'll win beyond a doubt. 
Go and put a good bet on it ; 

Hurry up! — they're going out." 

Now I seldom put my money 

On an ordinary tip, 
But I know Jim Jones is ''solid," 

So I made a hurried skip 



140 Racing Rhymes. 

From the paddock, and I hastened 

To the ring- at such hot speed 
That the perspiration from me 

Rolled in perfect floods, indeed. 

I just glanced across the infield, 

Saw the starter wave his flag, 
And I feared that I'd be shut out 

If for odds I tried to lag; 
So I cried to the first bookie. 

In a voice that had the cramp, 
I was so stewed up and nervous, 

"Here's a hundred! Give me Tramp!" 

The young man, a stranger, eyed me 

With a look of mild surprise ; 
Then he handed down a ticket. 

While a smile was in his eyes. 
I did not take time to scan it 

But I crumpled up the thing 
And just shoved it in my pocket, 

For "They're off!" rang through the ring. 

To the lawn I rushed, and quickly 

Saw with but a single glance 
That Tramp's start had spoiled the business 

And he didn't have a chance; 



A II Kill ds of Luck 1 4 L 

Twenty lengths behind the others 

He was running. I felt sore, 
And I walked away disgusted. 

For I cared to see no more. 

Well, the race was run and over, 

And Tramp fmished in the ruck; 
So I pulled out my "dead" ticket. 

With a murmur at my luck. 
As I started to destroy it 

Something startling caught my eye; 
'Twas "One thousand to one hundred" — 

And I gave a little cry. 

I had heard the bookies shouting, 

"Here is Tramp at two to one!" 
Just as I had put my bet on, . 

When the horses went to run. 
Then I narrowly inspected 

]\Iy odd ticket, and I saw 
It w^as ''Scamp" they'd written on it — 

That ''rogue" horse with iron jaw. 

"Well," thought I, " it makes no difference^ 
For Scamp never could have won;" 

When a friend chanced to pass by me 
And I asked him, just in fun, 



142 Raci?ig Rhymes. 

''Say, who won the race, old feUow?'' 

And he answered with a grin, 
"Why, 'twas Scamp , that blamed old rascal! 
And his price was 'ten' — to win." 

Well, it simply knocked me silly 

And I stood there like a calf; 
Then the whole thing seemed so funny 

That I had a hearty laugh; 
And, thought I, "Since fate has forced me 

To pull down a bet so rash, 
I had best be duly thankful. 

So I'll go and get the cash." 

To the ring I gayly ambled 

And T started out to look 
For the fellow T had bet with; 

The card read, "Hohokus Book;" 
But I couldn't seem to find it. 

Though I went to the same place 
Where I entered from the paddock 

When I ran to play the race. 

Puzzled greatly, I inquired. 

As a messenger passed by, 
If he'd tell me where that book was, 

While mv card I let him eve. 



[ 



All Kinds of Luck 143 

''Why!" cried he. ''You didn' t kn ow it?" 
(By his words my joy was squelched) 

It is all around the ring, sir; 

The 'Hohokus Book' has welched!" 

Once again was I knocked silly; 

Yet I couldn't help but laugh. 
For the whole infernal lousiness 

Seemed to me too rich by half; 
And from this most strange experience 

I was by this moral struck — 
**Any man who goes a-racing 

Must expect ALL KINDS OF LUCK!" 





THE GOODTHING. 



HERE is nothing that is better than 
a GOODTHING 
If the GOODTHING win only go 
throngh. 

And evervbody hkes to get a 
GOODTHING; 
That is, I do, and so, I think, do yon. 
When anybody tehs me of a GOODTHING 

I am grateful and offer h.im my thanks; 
But were I forced to bet on all those GOOD- 
THINGS 
I could break about a half a dozen banks. 



T recollect one time I had a GOODTHING; 

I got it from the trainer and the jock; 
And it really looked like such a jolly GOOD- 
THING 

I thought it ought to win "about a block." 



146 Racing Rhymes 



So I bet my whole wad calmly on that GOOD- 
THING, 
Though the other horses in the race were 
fast; 
Imagine how I felt when my prime GOOD- 
THING 
"Blew up" — and finished absolutely last! 



O my friends, let us be "leery" of the GOOD- 
THINGS 
And reflect before we put our money down,.. 
For too much faith in a real, bang up GOOD- 
THING 
Is apt tO' send us walking back to town. 
Now the only thing that really makes a. 
GOODTHING, 
As the ''wise ones" very frequently have- 
said, 
Is to "stiffen" all the opposition GOOD- 
THINGS 
And be sure that every other horse is- 
"dead." 



#i^ 



FELL IN THE STRETCH. 







FELL LN THE STRETCH. 



CRY bursts forth from the swayini 

throng, 
A blending of groan and wail; 
And faces that were all eager and 
flushed 
Grow suddenly sad and pale. 
A riderless horse conies bounding on, 

Swerving round from side to side, 
And far away, at the head of the stretchy 
Lies the boy who but now did ride. 



The other horses come dashing in. 

And the race is over and won ; 
But, even before the wire they've reached 

Fifty anxious men have run 
Toward the spot where the fallen boy lies still. 

And the crowd look more that way 
Than they do at the finish of the race. 

Though it is the best of the day. 



150 Racing Rhymes. 

For the hearts of the racing world are soft, 

And you'll have to look hard to find 
A gentler man than the thoroughbred sport, 

Or one who is half so kind. 
With any trouble or any hurt. 

Or any kind of complaint, 
I'd rather go to a racing man 

Than your strait-laced ''Charity Saint." 

The boy who is down is a favorite, 

And no man or woman there 
But would, to help or comfort him. 

Gladly give or do their share; 
And so you may hear on every side. 

As you go about the place, 
More questions about the injured boy 

Than comments upon the race. 

They lift the hurt boy tenderly up 

And bear him gently along. 
While the surgeon's quickly at his side 

To examine what is wrong. 
Then soon the glad news is given out, 

And flies from lip to lip : 
"He's badly hurt, but he'll ride again; 

He'll come round all right this trip!" 



Fell in the Stretch, 



I SI 



-And, believe me, nine men out of ten 

Who are gathered at that spot 
Will feel just as glad to hear that news 

As if they had "won a pot;" 
For a thorough sport would in scorn look 
down 

On a man, as a sordid wretch 
Whose heart and cash would not both ^o out 

To a lock who fell in the stretch. 




THE BLIND VETERAN. 




THE BLIND \^ETERAX 



OFTEN saw upon the stand 
An old, gray bearded man 
Who ahvays sat in one same spot 

Each day the horses ran. 
He never seemed to move about; 
He never turned his head 
To note the horses in the race 
As round the track they sped. 

But still and quiet would he sit. 

Nor cared to watch the race; 
His gaze seemed fixed and purposeless. 

Or bent on empty space. 
Some time I puzzled why this was. 

Nor could the reason find. 
Till, going close to him one day, 

I saw that he was blind. 

And then I was witfi wonder filled 

That such a thing should be. 
Why daily this old man should come 

And sit and never see 



156 Racuig Rhymes. 



The stirring scenes which there took place^ 

For surely there was naught 
Except the sight of such grand sport 

Which there so many brought. 

True, there was speculation's charm 

To draw that mighty throng; 
But still they came the sport to see, 

With interest all strong. 
And hence it struck me as most strange 

And sad, and made me mark 
More closely this afflicted man. 

To whom the world was dark. 

Close by his side there always stood 

A handsome, bright faced boy. 
Who watched each race with gaze intent^ 

And seemed to so enjoy 
All that took place, I couVl but feel 

Much interest in the lad. 
And often stood there watching him 

When idle time I had. 

It chanced that in the sta-nd one day 

I close beside them went 
To watch the season's greatest race. 

The turf's supreme event. 



The Blind l^e/eran. 157 



Then, even \\hile my eager gaze 

To view the race was strained, 
I heard what quickly to my mind 

The mystery explained. 

For, from the time the flag went down, 

The boy, in tones all low, 
"Called off" the race to the old man, 

That he its course might know. 
He "called" the horses as they ran. 

First named the one ahead 
And then the others as they came, 
With how much each one led. 

'Twas so well done, I could have shut 

My eyes and seen them run. 
And only once the old man spoke 

After it was begun. 
'Twas when they turned into the stretch. 

And as they straightened out. 
When, for a moment, who was first 

E'en caused the lad to doubt. 

And, as he paused a moment then 

Until he sure could be — 
''Who's leading now? Quick! Tell me, boy! 

My God! that I might see!" 



158 Racing Rhymes. 



Thus burst the old man's spirit forth, 

And by those words I knew 
A tragedy I witnessed there, 

If I divined it true; 

For then I felt this veteran 

Was in the sport bound up, 
And that it was all dark to him. 

Was his most bitter cup. 
So thought I, e'en in that wald din — 

Excitement's maddest \vhiri: — 
"The man who sees and don't thank God, 

Is in Pood sooth a churl!" 



n^ 



A FAIR ENTHUSIAST. 




A FAIR ENTHUSIAST. 




HE stood in the stand like an angel 
of light, 
With her dainty hands clasped, as 
in prayer; 
The afternoon breeze (which was 
making me sneeze) 
Was playfully rippling her hair; 
Her coral-hke lips were half parted, as if 

She were murmuring softly and low 
Some rapt invocation or soft exclamation ; 
Her cheeks with excitement did glow. 

Her ''eyes like the sea" shone with wonderful 
light 
And her soul seemed to linger in them ; 
Noi Orloff nor Kohinoor e'er shone so 
bright — 
Each one was a lustreful gem — 
While her pose, like Diana's, embodied that 
grace 



1 62 Racing Rhymes. 



Which the sculptors of old caught so well; 
Her form was more beautiful e'en than her 
face, 
And words of its charm fail to tell. 

I stood there and gazed unrestrained, for I saw 
That her thoughts were so far from those 
near 
That my stare, which exceeded strict cour- 
tesy's law, 
Would not to her notice appear. 
Such a vision of loveliness rarely I'd seen, 

Nor one with such soulfulness in. 
And I felt but one thing such emotion could 
mean — 
She was ''rooting her horse on to win." 



ti. 



THE PIKER'S HYMN. 





THE PIKER'S HYMN. 

WANT to be a plunger, 
And with the phingers stand; 
A ''roll" within my pocket, 
A 'Svad" within my hand; 
And there among the bookies 
Fd ''pound" with great delight 
The horses of my choosing; — 
I hope I'd choose 'em right. 

1 know it's risky business 

To bet so hard and strong; 
I know the biggest cinches 

Quite often go all wrong; 
I know that plots of all kinds 

Are sometimes made to smash 
The man who "hits it" fiercely 

And puts up "swads" of cash. 

Iknow that little bettors 

Are like the little fish — 
They slip out through the meshes 

Which many big ones dish. 



1 66 Racing Rhymes. 



Yet all these things don't faze me,. 

In bull-head luck I'd trust; 
I'd bet 'em to a standstill, 

And either win or bust. 

I think of *''J^ibi' Juggins," 

Of "Plunger Walton" too; 
Their glorious fate I envy — 

Such fortunes to run through! 
For what is money made for, 

Except to circulate? 
And betting sets it going 

At record breaking gait. 

Oh! may I be a plunger, 

And leave "The Piker Class!" 
Though people, if I went broke, 

Might ''write me down an ass." 
But if I won a fortune. 

Great fame would I command;. 
So let me be a plunger, 

And with the plungers stand! 




$■ 



PETER PFEIFFENSCHNEIDER'S 
PATRIOTIC "PET." 




PETER PFEIFFENSCHNEIDER'S PA- 
TRIOTIC "PET." 




GOES me py dot race dracks down 

Vhere all dose horses run; 
Mein neffew, Hans, says, ''Coom 
along! 

"You shoost haf lots of fun!" 
•Den vas dot great Soopurpan race, 

Ven efferypotty goes; 
Dot croAvt vas somedings terrible — 
I schpoils mein Sontag's glose. 

Put neff er mindt ! Dot vas all righdt ; 

I dink dot if I vants 
I puys me now some glose als fein 

Als mein young neffew Hans. 
Mein pockets shoost is filldt mit cash 

I from dot race did get; 
I dells you how I coom to spiel 

Dot batriotic pet. 



lyo Racing Rhymes. 



Veil dot Soopnrpan race vas py 

Young Hans he says to me, 
"Now, Onkle Peter, you shoost spiel 

Dese vays vot I do — see? 
Dot horse I spiels vas favorite, 

He vas so sure to vin; 
I puts mein lasdt cent oop on him, 

I vas so certain pin." 

Shoost den I sees von horse go py, 

Und dot poy on his pack 
He vears dose Deutschen colors oop, 

Shoost like der Deutschen Hack;* 
Und den I says to Hans, ''Mein poy. 

Your Onkle Peter spiels 
Dot horse mit Deutschen colors on; 

He batriotic feels." 



Und Hans he laughs at me und says, 
''Dot horse no von vill puy; 

His price vas 'anydings-you-vant ;' 
He von't be ein-zwei-drei." 



•The colors of W. Gratz, owner of Elkwood, who won 
the Su'burban of 18SS, were a cormbination very reminis- 
cent of the German flag. 



Peter Pfeiffenschneider 's Patriotic ' 'Pet. ' '^ 1 7 1 



"Veil, neffer mindt, mein po}^" I says, 

**I vill fife tollars pet; 
You go iind spiel dot horse for me, 

Shoost now, alretty yet." 

So Hans mein money dakes und goes, 

Und cooms pack right avay 
Und says, "Veil, Onkle, you vas on. 

Put you vas voon pig jay! 
Dot Deutschen horse vill neffer do — 

He vill not get ein schmell. 
Drei hoondredt to your fiife I got." 

I shoost says, "Very veil." 

Dot race soon vas off; put I 

Dose horses could not see; 
I vas so short und schtout, you know. 

Dot crowt shoost shumps on me. 
Put ven dey coom dot finish py 

Von moment I could look, 
Und den I see dot Deutschen horse 

Vas ''All der money took!" 

I schlaps young Hans right on der pack 
Und says, ''Now, vat you dink 

Of Onkle Peter, Hans, mein poy? 
Let's go und dake ein trink!" 



172 Raci7ig Rhymes. 

Unci Hans he only says, ''Mein Gott! 

Der Deutsch vas great for luck! 
I no more dinks dot horse could vin — 

I vas py lightnings struck!" 

Veil, neffer mindt! I gets mein cash 

Und puts it safe avay. 
I spiels no more; it machts nichts aus 

Vot anypotty say. 
I know dose races I can't peat; 

Put shoost for vonce I get 
Der pest of dem pecause I makes 

Von batriotic pet ! 




MICKEY McMANUS. 

AND HIS 

'FARRUM STHUDY." 



^ 




MICKEY M'MANUS 

AND HIS 

"FARRUM STHUDY." 

E jabers! Dhese harses wud dhrive a 



man crazv 



Dhere's niver a wan av thim runs 
loike he shud. 
Oi've figgered thim out till me moind 
is all hazy, 
An' me brains is as t'ick as ould Galway's 
foine mud. 



Oi've sthudied me ''Goide" an' the farrum in 
the poipers; 
Oi've sthudied the handicap shystem as 
well; 
But the divilish bastes all indoolge in such 
coipers 
That sorra a t'ing can a dacent man tell. 



176 Rachig Rhymes. 



'Twas a few days ago "Bridget" won very aisy 

In company good an' in loime very fasht; 
Thin to-day she stharts out an' runs murther- 
in' lazy — 
In a field av old crabs shure she runs about 
lasht ! 

Oi figgered "Tim Murphy" a cinch an' a 
moral — 
For a month he was ''placed'* ivery toime he 
did sthart — 
But the toime that I backed him the bloody 
ould sorrel 
Runs loike he was dhrawin' a waterin' cart. 

Dhere was ould "Billy Baker," a baste that 
cud niver 
Run half fast enough for to kape himsilf 
warrum, 
An' he comes out an' bates as foine harses as 
iver 
Were figgered as winners on ivery day 
farrum. 



Mickey Mc Mantis. 177 



An' thin dhere's a crackerjack they call 

"The Flier." 
On a Monday he'll win, on a Chewsday he'll 

lose, 
An' win agin Wednesday! The divil admire 
Such an in-an'-out baste! Shure it do give 

wan the blues! 

Oi've given it up — an 'OiVe burnt me ould 
dope-book; 
OiVe put by me "Goide" on the very top 
shilf. 
Av Oi kipt on Oi'd be loike the man who a 
rope took 
To make his cravat — Oi'd be hangin' me- 
silf! 



k 



THE TRACK IN WINTER. 





THE TRACK IN WINTER. 



HE gates were all closed and the ring 
was deserted, 
The grand stand was empty, the 
"rail birds" had flown, 
While through the bare trees which 
the outer rail skirted 
The winter wind whistled with 
desolate moan. 



The snowflakes were falling and spreading a 
carpet 
Of white o'er the track's broad, smooth 
ribbon of brown ; 
Ere long they would bury it up to the railtops 
If they kept on coming so steadily down. 

The stables seemed lifeless and cheerless and 
empty, 
Except three or four, where a gray smoke 
arose 
To show that some horses there kept winter 
quarters — 
The only warm spot in a picture of snows. 



l82 



KiUhic Jy/nfffcs. 



I lingered a moment and viewed ibe seene 
sadly, 
As 1 tluniglu oi the lite which Init lately was 
there: 
Then w hipiH\l np my horse and dro\ e on again 
briskly. 
My sleigh hells all tinkling a farewell io care. 
t 

"For," thonght 1. "it is foolish to monrn o'er 

the present 

Wlienit is unpleasant, and surely won't last. 

And w hen one considers a race track in winter 

He should lo(>k to its future, or turn t(^ its 

past.'* 




